


An Unexpected Intrusion

by MissYingYangKay



Series: YYK's Hetalia Crossovers [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers, The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: America Being Mean, Copley has an OH SHIT moment, Gen, Nations Are Scary, Swearing, The Old Guard movie with a Hetalia spin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:34:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25959892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissYingYangKay/pseuds/MissYingYangKay
Summary: “The ambush was interrupted by unexpected actors…” The CIA tries, but they can never quite keep track of a certain someone. So it’s like destiny that he just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, duh - Relationship
Series: YYK's Hetalia Crossovers [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1898467
Comments: 3
Kudos: 42





	An Unexpected Intrusion

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if anything doesn't fit with the comics. I've only watched the movie yesterday.

Andy knew this wasn’t a good idea…

She was _so_ _tired_ of all of this…

And for a split second, she lowered her gun with a resigned sigh as the lights clapped on and momentarily blinded her.

Only for a loud explosion to rock the room and throw their ambushers out of step for a brief moment, which she and her soldiers quickly exploited to get their first shot and all the subsequent moves.

_There are gunshots and shouting above them too._

* * *

James Copley watched through the screen, transfixed and horrified.

“Sir? There’s a disturbance above the targets…!”

His eyes were still glued to the screen.

“Sir!” At the call, for a moment, his eyes dart to another screen.

He sees a very familiar face, a quick visage, and his blood ran cold, he leaned away.

_Of all people to show up…!_

_This one was possibly the worst in the world…!_

“Oh, no…” He stood. “W-We need to leave…! Right now!”

* * *

It quickly turned into a carnage, most of it reflexive as she almost turned off her mind and let her body and trained actions do the dirty work, working in tandem with her men.

Another explosion above and– _“KIJANIIIIII!”_ A man’s enraged voice bellowed above just as the enemies fell. _“GET BACK HERE, WE’RE GONNA TALK RIGHT NOW!”_

Andy turned to Booker, then to Joe and Nicky, then gestured for silence and stillness. They nodded and remained on guard.

_“DON’T YOU RUN FROM ME, YOU CHICKEN-SHIT!”_

Steps rapidly coming down.

Andy turned to the door with her pistol aimed just as someone stumbled in, _she couldn’t tell who,_ and the sight of green and someone’s back made her keep her finger still; she lifted a hand.

A green uniform, a South-Sundanese army uniform, accompanied by a red beret, impossible to mistake for one of the enemy soldiers they’d just ended.

An African _young_ man aimed a carbine at the door and turned to them with a glance, as if not expecting to see anyone, his _brown?_ eyes widening. _“Nini kuzimu…?!”_ He gasped in Swahili as he quickly turned to aim at them and step aside, away from the door, _and he sounded and looked too young._

While they aimed their weapons back. “Wait.” Andy was unsure of who this was and whether shooting was the right thing to do yet. “We’re not here to fight you, whoever you are…” She shook her head and stepped back as well.

The young man frowned, _maybe he understood English,_ and his _red?_ eyes darted to the dead soldiers.

_“C’MON OUT, KIJANI! I’M NOT GONNA HURT YA!”_ Whoever was shouting had clearly lost his patience, already kicking things out of his way by the sound of it. _Heavy things._

They could practically hear his footsteps above, stomping in anger.

And it seems the young South-Sudanese deemed her and her warriors to be the lesser threat, and stayed quiet, eyes following the noise above. He seemed anxious about it, so…

Andy approached very slowly, lowing her gun. “…Do you–” It was a very quiet sound.

But the man turned to her with a glare, finger lifting to his lips, shushing her without a sound.

She was considering getting rid of the aggressor upstairs, or at least just incapacitating them to figure out who was actually the ill-intentioned party.

But now that she was closer, she could actually see that this man’s eyes were indeed bright _red._

_Shit…_ Andy backed away. _He’s one of **them**._

_Only **those** entities have such bright colored eyes._

But her men weren’t as aware of them as she was… They haven’t seen what’s she’s seen…

The one above sounded American, and they’re so rare that she was inclined to guess he was the one she’d met back in the 1800s…

_He sounded so much older… How do they grow older…?_

They had to get out of here without being seen…

Andy turned to look around the room. She gestured to the nooks their ambushers hid in. Maybe they could quietly turn off the lights and hide until the other one was gone…

But Booker was still frowning at the ceiling, as if looking for something.

A _clink_ sound hits, and she glares at what was thrown inside the room, _a grenade!_

A smoke bomb, instead, and she was blind once again as steps rang along with her ears; gunshots exploded once again as Andy immediately crouched and shot at where she knew the door was.

But it seems she hit no one, and everything went dark suddenly. _Headshot…_

…

…

…

_…Shit…_

…Sounds slowly returned.

_“What the– who the fuck ARE you?! Who hired you?”_

Awareness returns fully, along with the fading pain. She could see Booker and Nicky shielding her downed body, with Joe on one knee next to her.

“We could ask you just the same…” Booker hissed, sounding oddly nervous.

“Nobody hired me, I was just chasing this unreasonable _dipshit_ right here!”

_“U-Unreason…?! Y-You walk into my home–!”_ An accented, furious hiss.

“To TALK to you because you’re being unreasonable…! Don’t make me shoot you again.” 

“…You got shot…” Nicky muttered, equally nervous.

Andy hid her head’s wound as it healed, before finally turning to the scene.

“Body-armor, ever heard? Didn’t pierce as much, and you should be fucking _thankful,_ because the US government wouldn’t be very happy if I died.”

Intense blue eyes all but confirmed this man’s identity to her, or at least, his _nature._

He did look very much like the teenager she met during the American Civil War, although notably more mature…

The South-Sudanese was leaned against the bloodied wall with a pretty terrible gut-shot, from a high-caliber pistol the blue-eyed man now had pointed at them.

_A 50. caliber, those are always nasty to heal from…_

“Now, how about you mercenaries tell me what happened in this room…? I’m very interested as to… _why_ there are some many _dead.”_ The man hissed, eyes narrowing at them. “I see many shells… and you’re covered in blood…”

Shit, they needed an escape opportunity… So, she covertly pointed her pistol and pulled the trigger.

It hit him head-on in the temple, and she stood as he recoiled. “We need to–”

His foot planted behind and he pulled himself back up with a growl, blood dripping, and he focused on her. “You just _shot_ me…?” It was a quiet, eerie whisper. He sounded bewildered and pissed off.

Booker swore in French, backing away for a bit. “Y-You’re–”

Nicky and Joe also stared in shock. Dammit, there was no time to gawk, she’d have to explain this later, but for now, she aimed. “We’re leaving.”

But the blue-eyed immortal wasn’t fazed, only stared wide-eyed and scowling. “You just fucking _shot_ me, so no, you’re _not.”_ This must be how normal people feel like when dealing with her and her men…

Sudden awareness that you’re out of your depth. _She really hates these **things.**_

She’s sure they all felt it, which is why they all immediately lifted their guns and pressed the trigger until he was down, groaning, not even unconscious despite the deadly assault.

The South-Sudanese chuckled, muttering in Swahili, but didn’t attempt to move.

“Let’s leave, now.” Andy said and moved, her nerves already fried with sheer frustration at their current predicament.

She _hated_ dealing with this type of immortals… There was something very much _off_ about them that she didn’t like messing with…

“What about this guy…?” Joe asked, gesturing to the red-eyed man, who waited as his wounds healed.

The downed man hissed and lifted a pistol from his holster, pointing at Joe. The carbine laid empty of bullets next to him.

Andy shook her head. “No, leave him.” That made the man lower the gun.

“But–” Nicky began.

“He’s one of them. Leave him.” She hissed more urgently, pulling back, seeing the more dangerous one muttering curses as he turned on his shoulder, and his hand hit the metal floor to push, she could see the small indentation in the metal. _Oh, fuck…_ “Later.” She turned away and ran, her men running after her.

She ran with purpose until dawn. It exhausted all of them, but at least, they found a safe enough spot to bury the bloodied excess they no longer needed.

She did so in a hurry, before convincing them to keep going again until they found a train heading away from that location…

Only when she felt safer inside a moving train she could actually relax a little, and her frustrations finally came to the forefront of her mind again.

There were never any girls… Copley lied to them.

Now they… Well, they knew who they were. She hated to argue with her men about this, but they had to find Copley and tie things up somehow…

They couldn’t have their identities in the system…

And…

She never had any allusions that there weren't at least _some_ governments in this world that knew of immortals…

She’s seen a few who seemingly working for them…

She had to wonder what they were _doing…_ She’s been wondering if… if _they_ could be the reason her actions weren’t having an effect, why the world wasn’t getting any better…

Or maybe she just wanted to believe that there was a reason, that… it wasn’t all in vain, that she wasn’t lost and still in a stormy sea, instead of swimming upstream and only staying still because of resistance…

“You know who they are…?” Booker asked.

The train shook lightly every few seconds.

Andy leaned against the wall. “No… I just have seen them… And maybe you have too…”

Joe frowned, leaning a bit further into Nicky. “Have we?”

“Think back… Ever seen anyone with… oddly bright colored eyes…? Maybe of an unnatural color, too…?” Andy tilted her head, watching them. “Maybe someone who was a little too efficient in the battlefield…?”

She's seen one fight… That went _beyond_ what their undying but _human_ bodies could do…

Joe and Nicky seemingly drew blanks, and shook their heads, Nicky shrugging as well. “Not really…”

But Booker was staring at the floorboards, canteen in hand. “I might have…”

All eyes turned to him.

Booker took a swig of his drink. “’m not sure… It was this guy, in Paris, saw him very briefly, when I was a little young… At the guillotine.”

Nicky’s brows shot up. “Was his head…?”

“No,” Booker chuckled, with a demure amusement, a bit lost in a memory. “he was uh, one of the lunatics _chopping_ heads. Eyes were a blue-violet, indigo, _impossible_ to forget…” He scoffed. “Held the king’s head with such _malicious joy,_ to a _cheering_ crowd… His sword was bloody but dry, like he’d killed someone with it a while before, but didn’t bother cleaning that blade… An absolute _maniac,_ that man…”

Andy could once again revise her theory… that _these_ immortals weren’t _helping…_

Booker glanced at her. “…You’re telling me _that_ _man_ was immortal…?”

“It’s the best tell I’ve been able to discern so far…”

Joe was looking at her. “Why didn’t you say anything…?” She knew what he was thinking… That… he'd have liked to meet more people like themselves, more people who _understood…_

Andy lifted her knees, arms resting on them. “…I didn’t want you to think _looking_ for them was a good idea.”

Nicky’s brows knitted. “But if they are immortal like us–”

“They’re _not_ like us.” Andy cut in, then her tone softened. “…We never dream about them… They’re something _else._ I don’t know _what_ they actually are, but they’re different… They’re _dangerous.”_

_Clearly… There was something **wrong** with them, as far as she was concerned, and she didn't want to put these men in such danger._

Booker took another swig of his drink. “If they’re anything like _that_ piece of work in Paris, I’ll have to agree…” He sighed out loud, theatrical. “Aah-ah, I won’t sleep well knowing that crazy bastard might still be alive…”

Yeah… She didn’t like to think of that either. Not knowing how _many_ were actually out there, and how many were as self-serving as the very first one she ever met…

A Roman man. A warrior, clearly, but an _eager_ one, so willing to wage war, spoke of it so casually, it was uncanny; and, also, a very _vain_ man, with slaves and concubines he kept to serve him.

It was a brief meeting, not exactly pleasant with how he eyed her body, before dismissing her as nothing worth his time. But it was enough from what she saw and overheard.

She has no idea where he could even possibly be these days.

They’re still so rare, she rarely ever ran into one. It was only a handful of occasions despite her time on this Earth.

And every single time, there was always something odd or out of place, something she couldn’t quite describe, telling her to step away from danger, to be _alert…_

Which was a feeling she hasn’t quite felt in such a _long_ time… Feeling unbreakable for so long, a sign of _danger_ felt out of place, eerie, and uncomfortable…

She hated it, in a way… Although, it _reminded_ her that she wasn’t unbeatable.

_Whatever_ they were, they were a step above them, somehow…

“…I wonder if it’s connected…” Booker muttered under his breath.

Andy glanced at him, expression neutral, although Nicky and Joe seemed to be mentally considering the idea.

“…To what?” She already knew the answer, but… it looked like Booker had a lot in his head… Maybe wording it out loud would be helpful…

“To us… To our immortality…” He sighed again, leaning back against the crates and his backpack, ready to rest. “I wonder if they have anything to do with it… If they know what to do about it…”

_If they knew how to share it… If they knew how to end it… If they knew why and how it happened…_

Andy doubted it.

A complacent silence befell their small group.

Soon enough, they were asleep, and the _dreams_ struck them.

_There’s another one…_

* * *

The bunker was clearly not built by any African warlord or badly funded militia…

It was so well hidden that he had no idea this was even here. It’s not that he was looking for anything, he was just following someone over a disagreement…

He wasn’t expecting to find _this._

America clicked his tongue, swiping his bloodied gloved hand in annoyance at all the blood he just lost. The body-armor he was wearing was light, always to maximize movement efficiency, just there as a basic deterrent, but bullets still got through to the skin.

That damage was negligible, it's the _rest_ that was annoying as hell. The bullets in his own body were long corroded to nothing in his blood, as it does to any foreign object cutting into him, so it was already much easier to move his limbs.

He was recovering, yes, and good enough to stand, yeah, while Kijani was a lot slower about it. 

America recovered and stood before the other nation did, wiping the blood off his face. “Stay right there, we’re not done _talking…”_ He huffed in frustration, pointing his pistol at him lightly.

Kijani spat some blood and sneered at him, muttering.

America sighed, lowering the gun. “I’m not that good with Swahili yet. Speak English, will you?” He turned to the mess in the room.

The smell of iron and copper was stronger than before, now that he paid attention to it… Oh, what the hell even happened…?

Kijani growled under his breath and lifted a knee to sit more comfortably. “What is there to talk…?”

America turned away from the bodies, crouching in front of the South-Sudanese nation. “You and your brother–”

Kijani scowled right away. “He wants me _dead._ I will not accept it…!”

America rolled his eyes. “Reasonable assumption…” He conceded in amity and lifted a hand to stop him from talking again. “But you’ll _quit_ being a little shit and actually cooperate now. Your civil war is over, you’re _alive.”_

“It is none of _your_ business, white man…!” Kijani snarled, clutching his wound. "Nothing to talk… You should _leave…"_

“It’s the UN’s business when nations start to destabilize the area just because of their _‘fee-fees’."_ America spat. "You’re making everything worse, so,” America grabbed his collar. _“quit it,_ or I’ll _make_ you. You’ve _just_ been through a civil war, you can barely tank a single gunshot, so, if you _actually_ wanna die, then go ahead, pick a stupid fight with your brother over this. But if you really wanna have a chance to live on, you _will_ cooperate with the UN, understand…?”

Kijani didn’t relent and grabbed America’s collar in return. “He started it…! _He_ is the reason it happened! It was _his_ money paying them to rebel–!”

“I. don’t. care.” America hissed. “I think you’re _paranoid,_ but even if you’re right, you’ll _not_ pick a fight. You’ll sit down and _negotiate_ with the UN and your government’s opposition, and that’s the _end_ of this conversation.” He pushed him and stood. “If I hear of you attacking any Opposition Army camps again, things won’t end well for you.”

He turned away with a sigh, digging for cigarettes in his pocket. “Don’t waste another chance, Kijani. You won't live long if you keep wasting them.” A smoke should help him calm down a little… “Now get the hell out of here.”

A flick of a lighter, and the nation behind stood in silence, probably still glaring at America’s back; still a little dizzy, not recovering from the blood loss as quickly, stumbling a bit.

But he stopped at the doorway. “What were _your_ people doing down here…?” He suddenly asked, a clear suspicion in his tone, accusing not so covertly.

America narrowed his eyes, but didn’t turn to him, eyes dead-still on the bloodied bodies. “Even if you think we all look alike, you shouldn’t assume they were mine. They even shot me, remember…?” He mocked under his breath, cigarette rolling between his fingers, eyes narrowing. “It’s _probably_ nothing to do with us, so scram.”

He’ll look into it in privacy…

A derisive scoff, and steps ambled up the stairs.

America breathed in the nicotine, waiting for it to take some effect, short-lived as it tended to be. 

_Really, keeping the peace felt like such an annoying babysitting job these days… But it was necessary to maintain stability, he knew that…_

He waited for a few minutes in silence, until he was sure that he was completely alone.

The room was cold by now, and the cigarette ameliorated the _smell of blood_ a little. He hated the damn metallic scent, to be honest…

He looked around the room, and saw a few broken lights, and also broken cameras.

America raised an eyebrow, not seeing any one of them left unscathed, and then approached the nearest body.

Cold and stiff by now… He didn't know who they were or where they came from. So, he rummaged around for a badge or dog-tags or anything that could give him any indication of their identities…

Because he didn’t know whether they _were_ his or not… He knows that those people he found down here were not his…

But they were most likely the responsible party, and they were so unwilling to say so that they began to get nervous even before his immortality was revealed…

And that woman… He may have shot her accidentally, and honestly, he wasn’t looking to kill them right away, he was aiming for their legs…

They recovered remarkably quickly… And he could have sworn, he thought he’d shot her head after the smoke cleared, but it seems he just grazed her badly…

Lucky her. She seemed okay right after… and… she looked _familiar…_

_Maybe he’s seen another human with similar looks before… That wasn’t so rare…_

But… he found dog-tags. They weren’t exactly military, they were simply mercenary tags… _Oh, no…_

Upon reading it, his heart sank.

_American…?_ This one _was_ his…

Icy anger overtakes him.

He checks each one, taking note of the wounds, closing their eyes to let them rest. _Two were Americans… Some were Russian, Albanian, Serbian, Afghan, Turk…_

_Goddamn it._

Mercenaries fighting mercenaries…?

Or was something deeper at play…?

America scowled. This smelled like a covert operation gone wrong… That is, it smelled like _CIA’s_ work…

Those goddamn _weasels…_ What were they doing? America hated not knowing what they were up to, even more so if American lives were lost in the process…

He had to know _why._

America pulled out his phone, but found it broken beyond repair by a bullet, non-functional. He clicked his tongue and broke it to smithereens, tossing its pieces aside, before searching the bodies again. 

He left his own citizens' bodies alone, separating them from the rest, and taking a moment to take their head-gear off so he could at least know what they looked like.

_Could have been good soldiers… He won't know until he actually checks._

He found a working burner phone in one of the others and stood, walking back upstairs and climbing to the highest spot in the building, on the roof of a watch-tower.

He needed some help getting these men back to their homes, as well as taking his own back so they could be buried at home too…

America stopped to think, picking someone loyal from his list, one who’d be quiet but helpful. He wanted to find out what was happening, and why, and who was _responsible_ for the death of two of his citizens…

Despite what the CIA thought, he still had some of their agents more loyal to him than to them.

He nodded and dialed, waiting, and wiping more blood off his temple.

It took several rings. America frowned, losing his patience. Maybe he knew who was calling and why. If he _knew,_ then he'd better have a _very_ good explanation…

Finally, he picked up. _“…Hello, who’s this…?”_ It sounded hesitant.

_“Copley,_ hi, it’s me, Alfred… We need to _talk.”_

**Author's Note:**

> I'm probably not going to continue this, so I'll leave it as an one-shot. Maybe someone else will actually try to follow up on this idea. :)
> 
> So a Hetalia version of The Old Guard. The idea would be that while Andy and the others help humanity in their own covert ways by saving people the way they do, nations are a bit like that too, just a few levels above them with world geopolitics, by trying to keep each other from causing conflicts and hurting humans, with that intent or without it. It's just that nations aren't as likely to learn from their mistakes and become the sorts of people who go out of their way to do individual good work. They're selfish and territorial by nature, so wrangling with their less savory actions tends to be a difficult issue that few nations try to handle. Because some don't care about causing wars, they want something from it, or they want to hurt/kill another nation, or they're seeking their own interests, which can contradict another nation's interests and self-preservation motivation.
> 
> It'd write like the two sets of immortals work on different levels, and are different in nature, because one is still very much _human,_ while the other isn't human at all. 
> 
> I would immediately connect their immortality too, since in any story about such a thing, there shouldn't really be two unconnected sources, I'd find that a bit disjointed. I don't actually know what's the actual source, since I haven't read the comics, don't know if it was ever revealed and I don't intend to find out, but in this version with Hetalia, I'd simply say that nations occasionally had a more 'physical' relationship with a human, and thus produced a child, BUT, to balance it out (so there aren't that many immortals running around), I'd just add a few limitations.
> 
> Those would be something like: it's not certain a child will be born to begin with. But, if one _is_ born, there's a chance they'll be born with _half_ of a special gene. It doesn't do anything on its own, the child lives like a normal human with no advantages. Then, there's a chance it won't be passed to the next generation at all, as not all kids of that parent would have it if it did pass, so with every new generation, it can just disappear completely. So, to create an immortal, two humans, each with a half, would have to pass both halves to a child, and that child would be immortal, at least until the gene wears away, as everything does eventually. I think that adds enough barriers so that it veeery rarely happens, as it can miss at every opportunity. Shrug.
> 
> That'd be my line of reasoning for this AU version. Although, having kids with humans is not an aspect of my Hetalia AU normally, it's just something to adapt to The Old Guard universe. 
> 
> If anyone wants to write the movie from _this_ version, where America actually gets too curious and interferes with the events, feel free to do so. :D I'll leave it like this.


End file.
